Alone, Over Coffee

She sat alone
over coffee
as faceless voices
swirled around her
it is not – that the voices
had no face,
but that she had not yet
absorbed them,
she had not yet
taken them in.
She wanted to listen,
not so much to eavesdrop,
but to understand –
the smiling faces and laughter,
the woman whose eyes
mourned some great loss,
the man who sat alone
drinking coffee
reading the news
who glanced up
from time to time
cautiously.
Sometimes, she wished to
know their story,
perhaps to lend
a helping hand,
a shoulder to lean on.
She knew that sometimes
the world ached
and others needed
someone to understand
but it was not as if
she would ever be let in
this stranger, sitting alone
at a nearby table
often, people choose
to mourn alone.
Sometimes, she wished to
know their story
so she could understand
so thoughts could evolve
and stories could be bred.
She sat alone,
seemingly lonely,
but the stories filled her
with such companionship.